


Blood and Silk

by metisket



Series: deadly sins [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: F/F, F/M, deadly sins, hawkeye doesn't realize what a bullet she's dodged here, jean has lousy luck with women, jean is such a gentleman, lust has a bad habit of breaking her toys, lust is creepy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 21:17:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metisket/pseuds/metisket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean Havoc is a gentleman, and Lust has always preferred gentlemen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood and Silk

**Author's Note:**

> First posted June 2011.

She loves the way he smells.

Cigarettes and aftershave, gunpowder and sweat. She breathes in and feels it coiling around her, a warmth in her chest and heat between her legs. She wants to cover herself in it, she wants to tangle that scent in her hair and keep it there for days.

The scent of a man doesn’t die with him. When she was younger, more impulsive, she’d killed men during sex and painted herself with their blood and kept them for weeks, weeks. Soaking into her skin, dripping down her thighs. Part of her.

_Ah, but breathe, breathe_. She can enjoy this one, but she can’t keep him. He’s for Father to keep.

They’re all for Father to keep.

_Are you okay, Solaris? You look a little…_

_Worrying about me, Jean? Such a gentleman._

_Um. Thanks. I mean, I didn’t mean to say—you just looked—not that you’re not beautiful! You always are, it’s just. I’ll shut up._

Nothing is more entertaining than a man in an advanced state of sexual panic, particularly if the man in question is well-socialized. Oh, Jean, hilarious and dear. She wishes she could keep him. They would be beautiful together.

He tells her stories, so many stories, and she laughs in the right places and brutally combs through the words for a scrap of useful information. But nothing, nothing, nothing. Dear Jean, so careful, even now. She _does_ wish…

He tells her stories, and half of her mind listens, sifts for information. But the other half.

What would she do with Jean, if she could keep him?

She sees him tied to a bed, white sheets and pale skin, hair sweaty and disheveled. Those sweet blue eyes wide, because this will be the moment he realizes what she’s going to do to him.

No, they never _realize_ , do they? They never quite understand. But this is when they begin to suspect. It’s an entertaining thing to watch, because even though they suspect, she is what she is, and they can’t help but respond to her.

The sex is always good, she makes sure of it. The sex is so _very_ good that they almost forget what made them uncomfortable before: gasping and writhing, shining and warm, mindless with sensation. Humans are never so beautiful as they are in the moments when they’ve forgotten everything. She takes them only at their most perfect.

Death throes feel so much like orgasm that she wonders if the humans can tell the difference. She can’t. Either one is gorgeous. Glazed eyes and all that fragile control failing, giving everything to her…

_Oh_ , she really shouldn’t gasp at the lunch table. What on earth would Jean make of that? Kind, innocent boy.

After he’s dead, beautiful Jean, after he’s given himself to her, she’ll take her time with him, the way she used to. She’ll allow herself the luxury. After all, it’s been so long since she found a true gentleman. She may not have another opportunity.

She’ll touch everything of his, everything he is. The blood will pool on the sheets and drip onto the floor, and she’ll paint Jean onto herself, and he won’t have any secrets from her, and he’ll be hers. He will become her.

Perfect.

_Ah, I’ve gotta get back to work! How did it get to be so late? I’ve been talking your ear off, I’m so—_

_Don’t you dare say you’re sorry, Jean. I’ve had a lovely time. Do you think we’ll be able to do this again on Tuesday?_

_Of—of course! I mean, if you want to. Here? If that’s okay? Or, or we could go somewhere else if—_

_Here would be perfect._

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

He insists on calling her a taxi and handing her in. She waves goodbye. A pleasant pastime, as usual. But not a useful one, and Father doesn’t have time for her to waste on her own amusements. A shame. She’ll give Jean one more day, and if he’s still so tight-lipped, why, Father will have no need of him. She’ll ask if she can keep him.

Oh, she wants to keep him, she _wants_ —

But then, after. She’ll have to find her information elsewhere, and Roy Mustang is too careful to be of use. Far too careful.

Beautiful, though. Strong and compact, but graceful, and those eyes, that _passion_. Mm, she would happily burn and drown in that passion. She’d love to be the one to destroy it and own it.

But it isn’t practical. He’s too careful, and Father needs him alive. She wants him to be a sacrifice even more than she wants him for herself.

Who does that leave? She went through this list when Father first asked her to collect information, and the people on it haven’t changed. The unfortunate truth is that Jean was her best bet, and it looks like he’s going to disappoint her. Heymans Breda is, among other things, too wary of strangers. Vato Falman is absolutely not a creature of passion. Riza Hawkeye…

Riza Hawkeye would be gorgeous with her hair loose and tangled and her face open and frightened and young. No ropes for Riza, oh no. Boneless with lust over burgundy sheets, smooth skin and scars, small gasping breaths turned to cries turned to screams, and women always make the _best_ sounds. With Riza, she would aim the first strike to paralyze. With Riza—

Impossible. Hawkeye is every bit as careful as Mustang: impossible.

_Must_ the beautiful ones all be so difficult?

That leaves Kain Fuery, too childish to be her type. Ah, well. She’ll just have to cope; she isn’t awash in choices. Anyway, she only needs to use him. No one is asking her to keep him, so her preferences needn’t come into it.

And after all, she may be allowed to keep Jean. She shouldn’t be greedy. Demonstrably, no good comes of that.

_We’re here, miss._

_Oh, thank you. How much?_

_No worries, miss, your friend paid me already._

_Did he? Such a gentleman._

Such a gentleman.


End file.
